'Till a fairer object shall pass that way—
'Till an image more beauteous this world can show,
Than her own which she sees in the mirror below.
Pore on, fair Creature! forever pore,
Nor dream to be disenchanted more:
For vain is expectance, and wish in vain,
'Till a new Narcissus can come again.
[TO LOUISA M——,
WHOM I USED TO CALL "MONKEY."]
Louisa, serious grown and mild,